"obliterate" poems
The night under the mirror
went through a revolving door.
~~~~
Eventually I did put a face
to your loving cues your emails
It had been so long since your destiny had asked you my King
to marry her
that hunting jealous day that began much earlier under a 1975 degree celcious and did burn us to a crisp
Nothing would have given me more assurance more pleasure such a gracious challenge to a mysterious
proposition to dig my heart
for the final blow
one queen for his other
prior queen bee me
Karijinbba
and a winner I would have been
all night with my King
under the mirror!
to obliterate her wedding band
from his hand
how loving of you cupid of mine
always digging at my heart
for my heart of gold
then came cause and effect of karma blowing up our plans
another King Brad appeared with roses and diamond ring
in hand he had no mask just an hidden agenda
he took my children to his Mom
to make his other queenjealous and I took the bate
for just one hour both my King and Brad
had chosen he same photo E-mailed among several
to both single men seeking bride at Kiss com.
my lovely picture was the same summer dress I wore with the king I loved
as someone something from above and beyond
mirrored the scene in my life a kind of cause and effect
it showed my
old beloved a simple approach to a woman's heart
and me that the woman he married giving her a diamond ring taking her and son to his Mom was more to make
me jealous too fight for his love
an invisible revolving door had opened up
both to win my lover back
or to lose both Knights
fate life karma G**
had bid the greatest game
of love and twin souls
remained split bleeding
both men found a way to another
woman playing their game
I was sent to worship my Lord Jesus Christ mocking me
beware of Karma
or THINK and get rich and happy
to catch a true king FOCUS
don't take bates, don't settle for new when the heart is taken
by a true love not followed.
My king was found by his mate
and I returned Brads diamond
lesson played leasson learned
Then came the clock ticking
tax collector King Mr Time
he took my hand
paper INK and pen
to script a new
poem
its Winter he said,
HOW DO YOU
WANT ME TO KISS YOU?
and a new revolving door
appeared here at H.P.
~~~~~~
By: Karijinbba
Copy Rights
ASG/BBA -revised 6/2020.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 12:37 PM UTC
this is a tale
of two star-crossed lovers
with a love so powerful
they tainted the heavens
with bursts of colours
they were never meant to be;
mischievous little kids
finding love in sinful glee
in laughter, between dreams and reality
and though it was lawless,
they found solace
because in every prison,
they found a rhyme and a reason
but even for a love so great,
they could not escape
the fates’ wrath and envy
destiny pulled on their threads
cut them loose, thrusted them into misery;
for their memories were wiped clean,
but feelings remained as strong as they had ever been
the boy exiled in a far off land
across the pacific sea
the girl trapped in her need to break free
in a realm both boring and bland
ensnared in a labyrinth of woe
the lovers yearned for anything—
for something, for someone,
to obliterate this endless longing
the gods answered them
in the form of two loved ones
polished in every edge,
a perfect someone
but perfect felt too perfect
and not perfect enough
to fill up the hole
left by a perfectly imperfect
until one day the gods whispered
for the winds to push the two
and the birds to tug at their sleeves
over mountain and sea
even through the darkest valley
so their paths would finally meet
and so they did.
in the flurry of a moment
a pair of brown eyes met
and time was frozen
once more
the two stared intently
as if remembering a broken melody
a lost childhood song
branded as a wrong
the birds fluttered and flew
taking the cursed red fibre
snipped them in two
and the lovers felt all the lighter
it was the girl who spoke first:
**** the stars.
i don’t want perfect,
i want you.”*
eyes dazzling, the boy nodded:
*“we’ll invert the universe—
the night sky a blank white
the stars pitch black
the earth moving in reverse”*
the fates saw and surrendered
as the stars began to wither
for this love is love
in all its splendor
so the lovers walked away with a promise
under their breaths, they both swore:
*“i lost you once,
but nevermore.”*
****
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 10:46 PM UTC
They are always with us, the thin people
Meager of dimension as the gray people
On a movie-screen. They
Are unreal, we say:
It was only in a movie, it was only
In a war making evil headlines when we
Were small that they famished and
Grew so lean and would not round
Out their stalky limbs again though peace
Plumped the bellies of the mice
Under the meanest table.
It was during the long hunger-battle
They found their talent to persevere
In thinness, to come, later,
Into our bad dreams, their menace
Not guns, not abuses,
But a thin silence.
Wrapped in flea-ridded donkey skins,
Empty of complaint, forever
Drinking vinegar from tin cups: they wore
The insufferable nimbus of the lot-drawn
Scapegoat. But so thin,
So weedy a race could not remain in dreams,
Could not remain outlandish victims
In the contracted country of the head
Any more than the old woman in her mud hut could
Keep from cutting fat meat
Out of the side of the generous moon when it
Set foot nightly in her yard
Until her knife had pared
The moon to a rind of little light.
Now the thin people do not obliterate
Themselves as the dawn
Grayness blues, reddens, and the outline
Of the world comes clear and fills with color.
They persist in the sunlit room: the wallpaper
Frieze of cabbage-roses and cornflowers pales
Under their thin-lipped smiles,
Their withering kingship.
How they prop each other up!
We own no wilderness rich and deep enough
For stronghold against their stiff
Battalions. See, how the tree boles flatten
And lose their good browns
If the thin people simply stand in the forest,
Making the world go thin as a wasp's nest
And grayer; not even moving their bones.
23.6k
How shall I obliterate those warm memories?
The sweet moments penned in my mind's diary.
Succumbed I was in your trance,
those passionate moves of our dance.
I was alive because you were there.
Nothing mattered, for all seemed fair.
To me, you were the only right.
In my darkest hour, you were the only light.
Then time changed its tide.
We left each other's side.
We became busy in our lives
And everything else just died.
Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 5:28 AM UTC
A wild man is not a boyfriend, he is a force.
Can you love me in the blinding heat of a birthing star, when I shower warmth on distant moons?
Can you love me in the hole of the cosmic Black, where no one can reach me? Not even you?
Can you love me then too?
Can you love me when I drag buffalo skulls through the dirt for days, to the rhythm of an ancient drum?
Will you love me if my beard hides the scars in my heart, from battles I cannot explain?
WIll you love me when I lack courage, when I am defeated, when I won’t let you patch my wounds?
WIll you trust me when I smell of sweetgrass and sage, and when I stink of whiskey and sweat?
When I drink from the cup and play in astral light, will you anchor me to Home?
What happens when my words don’t work, and I can speak with only my eyes?
Can you love me enough to let me go, without asking me where I’ll be?
I am no poodle to lay groomed on a leash at your feet. I am the wolf that fetches the bones of truth.
A wild man is not a boyfriend. He’s not built for animal husbandry. He is a force. He is a cause for an effect. He is a mission.
Are you afraid to let me inside you? Not just my flesh, but my soul. The wild man is neither burglar or vandal. I will not take anything from you. I will not trample on sprouting seeds or pick flowers as a trophy. I am the sun on flooded fields and the fire for tangled webs.
Don’t be scared, lover, mother, maiden, crone. Take me as I am.
Even if I have the power to destroy worlds, I will not destroy you.
A wild man is a protector. A father. A warrior for all that is good.
When the chaos seeks to obliterate you, sheering your flesh from bone, I will hold all the pieces together in love, until you are ready to reassemble.
When your seas boil, and your winds throw cars at corn fields, I will wait patiently for you to catch my eye, so that both of us can laugh.
When Hell opens up the fiery gates, and sends all the cosmos against you… I plant my heels deep in the ground. I lay my shield low. My sword is sharp then, my love. The steel sings sweetly. With a smile, Hoka Hey! My last breath a farewell kiss. Today is a good day to die.
For ours is the oldest love affair. The greatest story ever told. Cupid and Psyche, Shiva and Shakti, You and I.
Same same but different. Would we have it any other way?
A wild man is not a boyfriend. He is a force.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 9:09 AM UTC
If I could, I would.
I'd demolish you with the things I can do.
You remake me,
I'll remake you.
If I could, I would.
I'd obliterate all that came before;
Your past, your pain, they'd be no more.
Every brick, every beam, every shard of broken glass....
I'd renovate your body, if you would only ask...
If I could, I would.
I'd enjoy the destruction of all that came before;
Every molecule of pain would be no more.
I'd break down your walls,
assault your salty skin,
make you feel whole,
make you fragile again.
I want to smother your psyche,
make you beg for mercy.
Nothing would be same, nothing would remain.
Beneath our heat, all that was solid melts into thick air.
My mouth swallows your pain,
consumes your frame.
And there we are: destroyed.
Neither who we were, nor who we're yet becoming.
Through our destruction,
we're remade anew.
You remake me,
I'll remake you.
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 5:58 PM UTC
I am not what I used to be
So now in the shadow of unspoken events
Everything whimsical is leaving
Words fill my head, they fragment like artillery shells
they tare through it forcing irreparable damage.
Time has accelerated
Born out of the absence of light
Shaped by my own hands
Justly worthy to be referenced and adored
I re-encounter what my elation briefly with held
The thirst for the dangerous
Obliterate the incomprehensible crowding thoughts
The stampede within my head
The mayhem of the many visions
Lock them down, all that fracture within my head
Inexplicable wanderings of mindful musings
Spontaneous perceptions
Shadow of foe
Encircling their fears with distractions
Pulsing in endless repetitions
I am the one whose throat is stripped bare.
I am the one who has not spoken in years
A distant moon to sense
© Crystal Erickson
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 11:35 AM UTC
360
Death sets a Thing significant
The Eye had hurried by
Except a perished Creature
Entreat us tenderly
To ponder little Workmanships
In Crayon, or in Wool,
With “This was last Her fingers did”—
Industrious until—
The Thimble weighed too heavy—
The stitches stopped—by themselves—
And then ’twas put among the Dust
Upon the Closet shelves—
A Book I have—a friend gave—
Whose Pencil—here and there—
Had notched the place that pleased Him—
At Rest—His fingers are—
Now—when I read—I read not—
For interrupting Tears—
Obliterate the Etchings
Too Costly for Repairs.
5.3k
My sunshine after a stormy day.
My rainbow after a rainy day.
My mirror.
My best friend.
On my darkest day you never left,
you see me through when there's nothing left.
In a brink of loneliness,
you sparkled me with
joy and happiness.
You create a brighter day
on my deepest despair,
never forgetting a perfect
smile to wear.
Oh how I love those curly hair!
Bouncing and dancing
up and down in midnight air!
I could not catch a rainbow or
bring you the moon,
but I promise to be your best friend forever 'till noon.
We will be up talking from dusk to dawn,
this friendship will last
forever we will own.
I will walk with you side by side,
hold your hand with all my might.
In vain I will not leave,
count on it I'm yours to keep.
My dear Anne Christine,
best friend of mine.
Two as one and one define.
There may be times of falling out,
but our friendship will never obliterate nor root out.
As our hairs turn to Grey and
we grow old,
together we will be stronger
eightfold.
And when the time comes that our balanced ride in the waves of life is steadied by His hands,
we will wrap our memories in our hearts and keep them until we meet again above the heaven's sands.
We will welcome each other once again with our arms wide open,
locking in a tight embrace,
and that's when we'll know..
our friendship will be eternal..
- Ella Salvador
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 4:39 AM UTC
It’s hard to fight wrong perceptions
For they are etched so deeply in minds
Unbecoming reasons obliterate the real sense
When nothing makes sense anymore
Brazen display of the fault lines
Weaken the social fabric
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
THE LAST LOVE LETTER OF TCHAIKOVSKY*
My angel, life of my life
Fate would never allow me to meet thee
Only in thy letters to me
Do I feel the touch of love’s ecstasy.
Would but that upon thy sweet face
I would just once behold
All my sixth symphonies I would gladly exchange
In love’s name and in its wondrous beauty untold.
Here with all my rapturous kisses
I send thee the music of ‘Love’s Sorrow’
Every note swims in the sea of my restless heart
None would such grievous pain of mine ever know.
Let history judge
All that is between thee and me
Even the deluge that drowns the whole world
Would never obliterate every melody I dedicate to thee.
• Tchaikovsky’s benefactress was Madame Von Meck (Nadezhda) who exchanged 260 love- letters (1876—1887)with him and endowed him with a regular income on the understanding that they should never meet.
Her late husband was a millionaire whose fortune was derived from his railway business.
Finally, she broke up the relationship leaving the composer in complete devastation.
This is one of the most poignant love-stories of all time.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
if words are food for the mind,
then here is a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then here is why i'm so pained.
abandoned, abhorrent
abnormal, absent
abstract, abuse
addicted, anxious
betray, bitterly
blank, blasphemy
bloodless, breakdown
breathless, brutal
captive, casually
catastrophe, cautiously
change, cigarettes
crucial, clueless
damaged, dangerous
deadly, disastrous
disheartened, disconcerting
dramatic, dreading
eager, eccentric
ecstasy, eerie
effete, effortless
embittered, excess
faded, failure
faintly, fallacy
faltering, fatally
fearfully, finally
garbage, gawky
gibberish, gloomy
gone, goodbye
graphic, gratify
hallucinate, harshly
hazy, heartless
hectic, helpless
hesitant, hit-and-miss
idiotic, idly
ignorant, intimacy
illogical, imaginative
infatuated, intoxicated
jealousy, jittery
journey, journal
joylessly, judicial
junk, juvenile
keen, killing
knavish, knocking
knockout, knotty
knowingly, knowledge
laborious, lacking
lame, languishing
lifeless, literature
lovelorn, lugubrious
madness, maintenance
make-believe, malaise
mean, melancholic
mellow, melodramatic
naff, naivety
nameless, naturally
nauseous, nebulous
neglected, nervous
oasis, objectionable
obliged, obliterate
oblivion, obscurity
obsolete, one-and-only
pacifist, pained
pale, panicky
paradise, paralyze
passionately, passively
raging, ranting
rationalize, raving
realistic, reasonable
rebellious, reckless
saboteur, sadness
sake, sameness
sanity, satisfactory
scar, steady
taint, tangled
tasteless, tearful
telling, temperamental
terror, theoretical
unaffected, uncanny
uncommon, unconsciously
undesirable, uneasy
unfortunate, untidy
vaguely, vanish
vanity, vanquish
versatile, vicious
violence, voracious
waiting, waking
walkout, wanting
wasteful, weary
withering, wrecking
if words are food for the mind,
then you've seen a glimpse of mine
if words are drugs for the brain,
then no wonder i'm so pained.
-djs
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
When humanity loses their beacon
Future plummets to deepest chasms
No light to welcome the future
No hands to hold, in our weaknesses
Only shenanigans
Will finally obliterate us
Leaving this celestial space lonelier
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
Pieces of
our past.
Wondering how we will
Patchwork
them back
together,
in the days
of the weeks,
the months
of the years ahead...
as you disguise
yourself,
on benches,
in corners, alleys.
Hidden in woods,
underpasses
of freeways.
Tents, cars
of strangers.
Filthy trap houses.
You disappear,
to find
comfort in
the only place
left to heal.
The Deep Depths of Sleep.
Oh how I
worry about
you my love.
You suffer so
for this journey
you have embarked on...
Oh, how I
hurt for you,
yearn for you,
love for you
and cry for you.
Your pain
so deep
keeps you away,
to dwell in the
terrifying place that
encourages
the need to
Self implode..
Obliterate all ability to feel.
Even the
true sense of Belonging
Of being
unconditionally
loved.
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 2:04 AM UTC
Bony small fingers wrapped round the cup and lifted it to pale dry lips
she took a sip and lowered cup
Sat opposite I looked at a face that was once to me the most
beautiful face ever
Now for the first time in my life I had undoubted confirmation
that beauty does fade
And those that say 'beauty is only skin deep were right all along
I was never in love with her, I liked her, liked her a lot, but right
now I sat broken hearted
Heartbroken because to me God's magnificence has been defaced,
the Divine work of The Most Divine has been destroyed
How could this be, how can this happen
Is evil such a powerful force, powerful enough to obliterate the face
of an Angel.
Yes, I know the prettiest Rose will one day wither and die
Yes I know nothing last for ever in our world
Yes I know we will all grow old and die
Yes I know night turns to daylight
Yes I know we all return to dust
It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, for how can Aphrodite turn into Medussa
within the course of a year
To twist the dagger in me more, it seem as if all the changes were by her deliberate design and welcomed by her
How can one blessed as such decide I want to alter myself and look
the most unattractive I can be
It was as if Lucifer stood there, saying 'you see my power, anything
you consider worthy, proper, Holy or beautiful, I can ******* mess up or destroy'...
Small bony claws put down the cup after the final sip, internally I was in stunned disbelief, how cruel is evil, how can an Angel be
thus disfigured. Where is God, why allow this.
I was never in love with her, I liked her but never had any reason
to think we could be an item. But her beauty always reminded me of God's magnificence and induced praise to God anytime I saw her. Now the hurts burnt so deeply into my soul, that I don't believe in the beauty of humans anymore. I was shallow somewhat
Now I know only Inner Beauty matters and everything happens for a reason
Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 6:42 PM UTC
On days of satisfaction I embrace the lights that illuminate our urban lifestyles
But on days of frustration I am capable of bending that light into fragile
reflections, which shed the truth amongst all creations
Because I'd love to compile a breed of hostile intellectuals
Who, I'd imagine, to fall on their knees begging for mercy from their own knowing
I am an ineffectual
Elitist.
Don't mistake my rage for power, as my power no longer exists
If you can believe it
If that’s how you see it
This environment constructed and was destructive towards the continuation of my ego and I am clawing my way out of a pit
A time ago I was the terrorist of my own self worth, and now I torture the weak- minded to nourish the hole in me to finally be a whole
It's a vicious cycle of how low a being will go to reach a ****** in time
The final stage is to reach self acceptance to show, lo and behold
silence.
where tranquility will obliterate greed
and intelligence will revive the need to be free from everyone else's thinking,
Morality.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 11:52 PM UTC
396
There is a Languor of the Life
More imminent than Pain—
’Tis Pain’s Successor—When the Soul
Has suffered all it can—
A Drowsiness—diffuses—
A Dimness like a Fog
Envelops Consciousness—
As Mists—obliterate a Crag.
The Surgeon—does not blanch—at pain
His Habit—is severe—
But tell him that it ceased to feel—
The Creature lying there—
And he will tell you—skill is late—
A Mightier than He—
Has ministered before Him—
There’s no Vitality.
2.8k
The scientist-psychiatrist
the psychologic sociologist
has proved with his statistics
and his data-riddled literates
that nothing will be crippled
if they sweep the city clean
if they slay not only Tybalt
but the whole Verona scene
so they ****** it from our hands
from our brains and those to come
as the Ravens sear across the lands
and bindings come undone
They watch the pages flitter by
and cackle with delight
as the populace of fiction
by their hands is ripped alight
The licking of the laces
by the hungry tongues of flame
will ravage on the characters
you've come to know by name
Montag barrels forth and finds
the Fahrenheit has risen
Hester screams and claws her mind
out of this hellish prison
and Dorian will clamber up
to sit atop the pile
and weep for Pictures yet to sup
upon his looks and guile
And you'll watch as they obliterate
the city from within
de-storying our Paradise
so it won't be Lost again.
But I, Calpurnia? I warned you
that the fiery clouds would rain
I told you all, fictitious youth,
but you called me insane.
Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 1:52 PM UTC
There's two eyes of the Hurricane
both blue
flecked with grey.
Incalculable
forecasting the direction.
Ominous hunch
it is heading
my way.
The stability of shelter
is a lottery
of hope;
defenseless
if caught in its
path.
I'd be squashed
like a paper cup.
At a glance,
she can obliterate you
just like that. (click)
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
O, Goddess of the Rain,
Won’t you keep me sane?
May the rain obliterate my pain.
O, Goddess of the Fire,
Won’t you hear my desire?
May the fire rid me of every liar.
O, Goddess of the Earth,
Won’t you show me what I am worth?
May the earth explain my birth.
O, Goddess of the Wind,
Won’t you forgive my sin?
May the wind restore my grin.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 9:25 AM UTC
There was no one at the funeral
No one there to say goodbye
It took them two whole weeks to find him
No one knew that he had died
Set out in the countryside
A farm with lots of land
He died there in his easy chair
It was just, but not as planned
We grew up there with no neighbors
Just a dad and his three girls
No one heard our screaming
In our pinies and our curls
THE MONSTER ISN'T IN THE ROOM
NOT IN THE CLOSET, NOR 'NEATH THE BED
HE'S IN THE BEDROOM DOWN THE HALL
DAD'S THE MONSTER IN HIS STEAD
HE COMES TO MY ROOM IN THE NIGHT
AND DOES THINGS THAT DAD'S DON'T DO
HE TOUCHES ME WHERE HE SHOULD NOT
DID HE TOUCH THE OTHERS TOO?
It's my task to clean out the house
To get rid of all that's here
There's memories in every room
And nightmares too, I fear
The scent of Borkhum Riff
Still hangs lightly in the air
I remember it as he lay down
It was in his clothes and hair
I can smell his after shave cologne
In the living room, it lingers
I remember lying silent
As he probed me with his fingers
THE MONSTER ISN'T IN THE ROOM
NOT IN THE CLOSET, NOR 'NEATH THE BED
HE'S IN THE BEDROOM DOWN THE HALL
DAD'S THE MONSTER IN HIS STEAD
HE COMES TO MY ROOM IN THE NIGHT
AND DOES THINGS THAT DAD'S DON'T DO
HE TOUCHES ME WHERE HE SHOULD NOT
DID HE TOUCH THE OTHERS TOO?
Boxes of old memories
To discard of and move out
I don't want to take them with me
Not with the memories about
My bedroom, like the others
Sits unchanged through out the years
There isn't many smiles there
Just dirt amongst the tears
I wonder as I go outside
To get a break from all the smells
I know he's not in heaven
My daddy's down in hell
THE MONSTER ISN'T IN THE ROOM
NOT IN THE CLOSET, NOR 'NEATH THE BED
HE'S IN THE BEDROOM DOWN THE HALL
DAD'S THE MONSTER IN HIS STEAD
HE COMES TO MY ROOM IN THE NIGHT
AND DOES THINGS THAT DAD'S DON'T DO
HE TOUCHES ME WHERE HE SHOULD NOT
DID HE TOUCH THE OTHERS TOO?
As time goes by know what I
Must do with this old place
I must obliterate it from my mind
And build a new house in it's place
Five miles from the closest farm
All alone with none around
I can free myself form the nightmare
If I burn it to the ground
I call up both my sisters
Knowing what he did to me
He wouldn't be selective
He did it to all three
THE MONSTER ISN'T IN THE ROOM
NOT IN THE CLOSET, NOR 'NEATH THE BED
HE'S IN THE BEDROOM DOWN THE HALL
DAD'S THE MONSTER IN HIS STEAD
HE COMES TO MY ROOM IN THE NIGHT
AND DOES THINGS THAT DAD'S DON'T DO
HE TOUCHES ME WHERE HE SHOULD NOT
DID HE TOUCH THE OTHERS TOO?
Through arguments and logic
I lay out to them my plan
They tell me they will come home
They'll be there when they can
The day arrives as do the girls
We start the plan out in the patch
We've each one can of gasoline
And we each have just one match
The house burns rather quickly
Oily smoke it fills the air
The only thing that's missing
Is that the monster isn't there.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC
Some say that it is unfair.
Unfair for the cosmic intoxication that I can feel.
Unfair for the ability to obliterate my surroundings
and sink into her exhilarating aura.
The power to visually experience instrumental weightlessness,
an exuberant eruption of colourful lush masquerading the sky,
the fixative pulse attached to her heart.
Floating above the universe and holding on to all the stars
as I escape in her smile.
Some say that it is unfair.
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 7:55 PM UTC
674
The Soul that hath a Guest
Doth seldom go abroad—
Diviner Crowd at Home—
Obliterate the need—
And Courtesy forbid
A Host’s departure when
Upon Himself be visiting
The Emperor of Men—
2.4k
And the prophets all dressed in their Sunday's best,
Waiting for the secret of the sacred test
While the little red birds and the big black crows
Sang a tune, "One above, one below"
And as she whittled the knife cross her wrist,
She came across an ancient tryst
A place she knew from way back when;
The place she knew that she would end
It had hands like hers, and vulnerable eyes,
But the mind did not shake, the soul not disguise
It drug her away from the beady-eyed ones,
While she stared from below with a mouthful of guns
It took her away to a quiet room,
Where around her was no one she knew
She turned to look at its face, but only emptiness
She turned to ask it a name, but only vagueness
And what did you mean when you said you had a dream
Full of colorful squares and the butter king?
And why did the man drinking gin from a can,
Provide such a riddle on the night of the ******
"He'll come to you in chains, so take what he gives"
Does this mean that I'll die, and he lives?
Is redemption the path for the doomed and the great,
That comes only when called upon by your fate?
Where then is this world, with chips, ruffles and pearls?
Where is my ticket to? Heaven or Hell?
Either way, I'm not meant for this realm,
Where I'm flying blind with no one at the helm
The haunted attic days are over
No more crimson, no more clover
The lollipops are frozen, the crisps have turned black
They possess everything; I only love what I lack
So rid me of here, or obliterate it all;
Being "self-contained" just isn't my call
I could be strong and keep a tight trigger,
But these unborn chicken voices are bigger
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 11:33 PM UTC
I'm in love.
I'm in love with the way grass smells after it's been mowed.
It has a certain smell that reminds me of summer days and childhood memories.
I'm in love with how that rain hits my window during a storm.
It's like it wants to come in so badly that tries to obliterate my window but only to realize that as soon as it hits the glass, the raindrop itself obliterates.
And I guess that's how I feel in love with you. You reminded me of summer nights and some childhood memories and I wanted to get into your heart so badly that I thought if I made myself fall you would catch me.
But, just like the raindrop, I obliterated on contact.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC